"Nagoyas been hit!" Kyun Wu snapped. "Full round of laser fire from Bogie Two. Looks like severe damage to all forward sections."

"Confirm that," Smith said. "Damage to command structure; severe damage to sensors and forward missile ports."

"Cascadia's launched a missile attack against Bogie Two," Kyun Wu said. "Missiles hitting... no apparent damage. Bogie is attacking Nagoya again."

"Damage to Nagoya starboard flank," Smith said. "Make that severe damage. Command center's gone; Prasad has ordered ship-abandon. Bogie One's engaging Wolverine"

"Trautmann, move us to backstop Cascadia," Montgomery ordered the helmsman. "Kyun Wu: status on Nagoyas honeycombs."

"Nothing yet," Kyun Wu said tightly. "Bogie's still firing at Nagoya. Wait a minute; I'm picking up some pod emergency beacons—"

Abruptly, he broke off. "Beacons have gone silent, Commodore."

Germaine swore viciously under his breath. "Damn them all."

Montgomery squeezed his left fist hard enough to hurt, sudden fury burning along his throat. They were doing it again. Brutally, arrogantly, deliberately, the Conquerors were slaughtering the human survivors of their attack. Helpless survivors, in defenseless and unarmed escape pods. "Launch missiles," he ordered. "Full salvo."

"Acknowledged," the weapons officer called. "Missiles away."

"Too late, Commodore," Smith said quietly. "The Nagoyas gone."

For a half-dozen painful heartbeats Montgomery just sat there, staring at the expanding cloud of debris that had been the Nagoya, a cloud still flashing and flickering with secondary explosions and enemy laser fire. There were things he wanted to scream at the Conquerors; things he desperately wanted to scream. But he was a NorCoord officer, from the heritage and tradition of Great Britain. Such men did not lose control. "Fighter status?" he asked instead.